


It's Mine, I Licked It

by BlossomofFireandRain



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Everyone's alive and there's complicated feelings, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, M/M, Non-sexual licking, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, after the game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:07:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomofFireandRain/pseuds/BlossomofFireandRain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows that putting your spit on something claims it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Mine, I Licked It

AA started it.

One too many giggles and sardonic comments and she’d leaned over and licked your forehead. You’d stared at her, eyebrow raised and definitely somewhat confused, and she’d laughed and said something about how she’s licked it, it was her’s now. You’d paused, and then shrugged and licked her forehead back. It had all dissolved into you making screechy noises while she cackled and grabbed for your sides. 

You’ll continue to blame her for where it took you. 

After that, it kind of became your thing. Well, more her thing, but still a running joke, a possessive affectionate gesture, something she used to tell you you were her’s, and she cared about you very much. You just kind of went along with it. Plus the smiles she made when you returned the gesture might have motivated you to continue it. 

You are Sollux Captor, and you are secretly very weak to your moirail’s wiles. 

Still her fault, but you’ll deal.

 

After AA died, you stopped doing it for a long time. Who were you going to lick, your lusus? Nope. Let’s just nip that disturbing thought in the bud.

And then you’d met KK in person, and in one moment of “Aw, he’s a little pissed-off ball of hair and rage,” you’d licked him. 

It only made it better. 

Watching KK react with screeches of “ICK ICK ICK ICK!!!! CAPTOR YOU GRUB-SNIFFING MORON! OH MY FUCKING SIGHT STALKS WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU DO THAT!!!!????” while flailing at his forehead wildly had been one of the most oddly satisfying things you’d ever done. It got even better when he started hocking up spit to lob at you while you floated just out of range. The eventual hatesex had been entirely worth the slobbery spit-dripping lick he’d gotten on your forehead right before you’d both gone off. You in tight astounded rage, him in smug drippy satisfaction. 

You might have smeared a handful of yellow in his hair right before you took off. But you’re not admitting to anything.

Yeah, it’d been a bit bittersweet, a little tight painful pressure in your chest, a voice mumbling in your head that that was AA’s thing, but it still had felt so good. And maybe it was your thing now too. 

FF had just looked at you and then licked back, and wow, no explanation needed, she’d gotten it easily. But KK remained irritated by it for ages, before he got what you were doing. (You were pretty sure one of the others might have explained it.) And then he’d erupted more, screaming that you were his, not that he was yours, and hey, what do you know, KK _can_ make heated water vapor come out of his ears when he gets mad enough. 

 

Then had came that horrible time being locked in a body with a pretentious douche. To say there was two sides of your mind would be putting it lightly. Eventually you’d started licking things just to irritate the crap out of him, pulling AA’s line out about how it was yours now. 

Oh, the screeches. The high pitched whines, the teeth grinding, the hair pulling and clenched-down fins. This wasn’t like licking KK, this was purely to irritate, to annoy, to frustrate someone as much as you were frustrated, stuck here with only douchebags to talk to. But the bad thing about being forced to coexist with someone that closely is that after a while you start to see all the stuff that lies underneath. 

He was bratty. He was self-important and arrogant and rude. He had felt like the world owed him things, and that grated on you more than you’d like to admit, coming from a perspective where the only likely future had been as a ship’s battery. But he was soft under that too. And living in each other’s minds, you started to find all the places where he was weak. That for all his bragging and raving, the fish prince was actually incredibly scared of being in charge. For all the boasts of his blood, he didn’t really believe it would get him anything. The mind-draining fear of being left alone. The fact that yeah, he’d wanted FF partially because she was the heiress, but also because maybe if he had her, he’d be worth something too, be worth knowing, and the secret guilt that curled inside him anytime FF came to mind, mixed with the confusion as to how to fix any of it. 

He was a mess, a wreck, and you found yourself more and more having trouble giving your words quite the punch you wanted, closing your metaphorical mouth over sharp-edged words, because you knew they’d make brat troll cry on the side of your mind that was all him. You knew it cause you could feel it. Maybe he’d noticed, or maybe he’d felt the weak places in you, loathe though you were to admit they existed, because he starts pulling his words too. Not entirely, oh no, that would be too weird for either of you, but the tones you take are far less…..caustic.

Maybe it’s being in each other’s minds, maybe it gives him a chance to see how his actions looked from outside himself, how you think he could have fixed it, maybe it’s just being miserable, but princess Ampora becomes a little easier to deal with than you thought. When he sees the giant skaian ship he about comes in your non-existent pants, mind overflowing with babble of different military bits that you just don’t get, and you have to squirrel away the thought that yeah, that’s pretty cute.

By the time you find FF and NP in sprite form, he’s a much more bearable mindmate. Still doesn’t stop the bickering or the moodswings that both of you contribute to, but you find yourself less on the side of “I will kill him once this is done, so no one will ever know we were that close” and more on, “I might have to threaten him with being eye-rayed to death, but I think I’d be okay with sitting through a movie with him.”

 

It isn’t untill after the game that you start to find out how much you gotten used to him. 

In this weird mixed-up world that was created as a reward by the game, getting a hive was fairly easy. You’d all set up fairly close to each other, at least at first, so finding each other if needed is easy. The humans called it an ‘apartment complex’ although you still liked the term ‘communal hive stem’ better. 

It’s a week into settling down and figuring out what everyone’s doing when the silence of the apartment finally gets to you. AA’s been over, but that doesn’t quite seem to fill it, not in the way you feel you’re missing. After everything, you and FF had been mutually okay with calling it quits, at least for now, so even when she’d visited, it didn’t feel right. It just- It bugs you! There’s something missing, something you’ve gotten used to, and you can’t find it. 

You try to focus on finding out how humans’ computers differ from what you’re used to, but your mind keeps running in circles, a sort of quiet monologue in the back of your mind, charting out everything that’s missing. 

"It'th too quiet, there thhould be thome nathal background noithe. Hath the room alwayth been thith hot? My neck feelth cold. It thmellth- No, it doethn't thmell like anything in here, that'th what'th wrong."

You borrow some of AA’s perfume. It doesn’t help. 

“Why ith it tho fucking cold on my neck!?”

You wrap t-shirts around your neck, find turtlenecks and wear them, (You refuse to wear a scarf, that’s just too pretentious for you,) scrunch your hair down on your neck. It doesn’t help.

You have KK over, and proceed to break in your couch. He’s loud, and it feels good, it feels better, but it’s still not quite right. It’s the wrong kind of loud. KK makes you listen to him, makes you hear what he’s saying, because he’s perfectly willing to lash out if you don’t. It’s not till you’re both panting on the couch, damp and cold, sore in more places than you can count, that he leans up and licks you across the forehead.

For some reason it jars things loose, shakes your thinkpan in just the right way, and you find yourself remembering purple. 

You manage to get KK out the door before you flop on the floor without even trying to make it back to the couch. 

No. No, this is not happening. There is no way this is happening. Just no. 

You knock your head on the floor some more. 

He’s whiny. Why would you like someone’s who’s so wh- Nope, you don’t like anyone, what are you talking about? 

You have dreams that night about cold purple-tinted skin and vulnerable wide eyes.

You don’t like anyone. 

It takes 3 days of knowing (and dreaming) about what you’re missing to try trolling him. He doesn’t respond to the first message at first, and you nearly give up before a hesitant sounding response shows up. He agrees to meet up.

When he shows up, you nearly laugh at the conflicting emotions on his face. He clearly does not approve of what you’ve done with the place, but at the same time he’s clearly biting his tongue to not say anything, and it’s oddly endearing. For the lack of anything better to do, you watch a movie.

You watch three movies. 

He’s annoying and bratty through all of them, but he also does stupidly cute things. He’s improved. You haven’t heard any of the others complaining about him, he hasn’t made a royal ass of himself at any of the get-togethers and housewarming parties that the others have thrown. He’s one of the few that hasn’t done so, even on a casual basis, and you find yourself wondering what his place looks likes. Probably stupidly purple. You remember that squishy vulnerable center he has, and wonder how he is, all hidden away by himself like he’s been doing. 

You kiss him. He lets you, and you almost wish he wouldn’t, so you’d have a reason to be irritated, to not feel this full of both wanting to keep that squishy center of his safe, and wanting to pull it open and bathe in it. He makes little chirpy noises in the back of his throat when you lick the roof of his mouth, and it makes you burn. 

One movie date turns into 3, and while you spend a lot of them mocking the movies, you spend part of them with ED cool in your lap, growling into your mouth as you kiss. 

You worry that he’s only taking you cause you’re the only one who wants him. You find out from KK that he won’t fucking shut up about you, and you take satisfaction in both the really fucking good hatesex, and in that you’re on ED’s thinkpan.

It’s been another date, one to his place, cause apparently you rate actually seeing it, when he stops you when you start to slide a hand down the back of his ridiculously tight pants. You may or may not have growled. 

(You can’t help it. You like the stupid bratty princess. Somewhere along the way his nasal whining became oddly soothing, and you’re really sure that his sex noises would be 20 times as cute as the noises he makes over history and ships. You may be a little frustrated with all the making out you keep doing.)

He pulls back from you.

“Look, I knoww- I get wwhat you’re lookin’ for, I keep lookin’ for it too, but you don’t havve to date me to get me to stay around….”

You are now terribly confused. Does he not want to date you? You mean neither of you have really talked about it, but you thought the makeouts and the time spent ripping on movies and flicking each other’s ears had been mutually enjoyed….

He must see your confusion, cause he looks down at his twisting hands and starts trying to explain.

“Wwell, I knoww you’re missin’ me in your head, cause I’vve been missin’ you too, but you don’t havve to date me to make me stick around. I’m not gonna….. I’m not gonna try to blackmail you into my red quadrant….Too….”

Oh. _Oh._ You’re a bit breathless with understanding. Part of you feels oddly proud that he understands that now, that he gets it, and gets why it was wrong, but the rest of you is gobsmacked at how oblivious he is. He looks miserable on your lap, knees tight against your hips, like he’s afraid to let go, and this is seriously the most awkward way and time to be having this conversation, what with your jeans a little damp from how your body had been waking up, and how he’s **still** sitting on your lap during this, but you don’t want to push him off so you can be more comfortable. You remember that squishy center and can’t. 

He must take your silence as agreement with him, because you can feel him starting to shake in your lap, and he braces himself on the couch to slide off your lap before you tighten your grip around his waist. He’s watching you confusedly even while you careful put your new growth spurt to good use by licking his forehead.

“It’th mine, I licked it.” 

You’re quite okay with the fact that you have squirmy teary-eyed seadweller in your lap trying to kiss your face off.


End file.
